Page 96 of Chasing Headlines

Breslin POV

Istumbled into my dorm room. I was no lightweight, but my legs had somehow changed into rubber. A loud buzzing sound echoed in my brain. I was tired. Sick.Sick and tired. Tired and sick.

The world drifted one way. I'd blink and it shifted the other way. My eyelids weighed a hundred pounds. Wherever this place was, it was the comfiest I'd been in my entire life.

Arms wound around my shoulders and pulled me in. The sweet scent of flowers drifted around me. A soft moan. She was under me, around me. I moved in and out of her body as heated electric tingles breathed across my skin. Her breasts teased against my chest.

She huffed and gasped and whimpered. Her arms hugged me tighter as her lips grazed my ear. “I want you, Breslin. Only you . . .”

I jolted awake. A sharp, instant consciousness like an invisible rubber band snapped against the squishy surface of my brain. Igroaned as my eyes attempted to focus. The side of my baseball cleat dug into my cheekbone as the smell of sweaty feet reached my stomach. It rolled over in a solid, simmering lump. I pressed my lips shut and shoved at the shoe. It slid, splattering in . . . Liquid? On the floor.

A painful nagging pushed me upright. My brain had melted out of my ears onto the linoleum, and it smelled rank. Like fermented, rotting?—

My stomach jumped and dragged my ass off the floor. I lifted to a crouched position, crawling to the trashcan in the corner. The muscle leapt again and tried to permanently leave my body. I heaved whatever was left in my stomach into the bin. It reeked of alcohol.

Suck. I had zero recollection of ingesting whatever this was. Ever. Why had I thought alcohol was a good idea? I groaned as a pounding ache sat in the middle of my brain. I closed my eyes and sat there, hugging the can, half-asleep—my cheek resting on its rim. My stomach flipped and flopped. Leapt and dropped. Then attempted a few backflips.

The flesh along my face and neck burned. Sweat slicked its surface and cooled me too quickly. I shuddered.

Yeah, fuck this. I needed water, ibutab, and a helluva lot of paper towels to clean up the grosstastrophe on my floor. Had to get myself in some kinda shape for our morning workout. I dragged ass to the sink, ran tap water into a plastic cup and downed it. I filled another cup and sipped—mentally willing the liquid to seep into my cells. My stomach sunk lower in my abdomen like it finally accepted it wasn't going to escape this body and find someone to treat it better.

I pulled my shirt over my head and caught a look at the fried leftover of a thing I'd become.Look alive, Eberhardt had said. A standard saying. But since I'd arrived at school, nothing was doing it for me. I needed to turn this shit, my shit around. But nomatter how much I knew it deep down inside, all the way to my flip-flopping gut. The knowing wasn't turning into action of any sort. I shook my head at the guy in the mirror.No heart.That's what Coach Jay would've said.

“You gotta give your all, not just on the field. Play this game called lifewith heart, son.”

Maybe at one point, I'd felt things 'in my heart'. But, now . . .

I shut my eyes, blinked them open. That was all kid stuff. Baseball was a serious pursuit. And this was game time. Everyday.Need to shave. I eyed my reflection. My facial hair still came in, in weird patches. Some of my teammates could grow full beards, but not me. I just looked unkept. I sighed.Shower. Shave. Look alive.

I slipped off my pants. The semi-erect thing glared with one eye.You, too. It's good for our mental health.I huffed and grabbed my towel from the floor. The ghost of an image sloshed around inside my alcohol-infused brain.

Her arms tightened around me, crushing her bare breasts against my skin. Her lips hovered, so close, I?—

“No.” But now it was a completely-erect thing.Dammit, why her?I growled and wrapped the towel around my hips and slid my feet into my flip flops. I shuffled around the yuck I'd have to clean up later and crossed the hall to the communal shower.

I shoved open the door. The place was empty.What time is it?I glanced around for a clock.Where the fuck's my phone?“Ugh.”Where the fuck's your brain, idiot. Probably closer to your ass.

“Talk out of your ass much?” She tossed her head and glared.

I chuckled and found the nearest open stall. Stepped into the shower, flipping the water on as soon as I could reach the faucet, I ducked my head under the spray. Cool water slid over my skin. My body's cells began to breathe, tingling back to somesemblance of life. I sealed my eyes shut, letting the liquid wash over me.

Herface swam to the front of my brain. Sparkling blue-green eyes. Smart, pursed red lips. Long legs that held up that incredible, tight ass.

“I sleep in your shirt. And only . . .”

I groaned as somehow my mind conjured that exact instance in time. Like she was right there, about to brush her mouth against mine. Like I could rewrite that sequence to have her slide across my lap, tangle her fingers in my hair and?—

The door to the shower room banged open. I let go of the rock-hard part of my anatomy and pumped soap from the dispenser into my palm. I rubbed it over my chest and shoulders, letting the water rinse it off almost as soon as it hit my skin.

Mom said I should kiss girls instead of play baseball. I tilted my chin to let the spray soak the back of my head. There was a time when I'd discovered that girls liked kissing baseball players. Especially winning ones. Some liked to do more than kiss. These were not conversations to have with one's mother.

“You should find more time to kiss girls, Breslin.”

I grabbed my orange juice and downed a gulp in the hopes my grin wouldn't give me away. Oh, I found time to kiss girls. And Bailey Lee hadn't stopped at kissing—my mouth, anyway.

“Not that I'm in a hurry with a sixteen-year-old son. But, I do hope to make it to be a grandma someday.”

“After college.” My dad's voice groused.